


Specters in Stairwells

by pmonkey816



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angsty bordering on a kind of hatesex sort of thing?, Canon (whoa), F/F, I really am seriously an angstmonster though, but also that's sort of just their relationship with the exception of like five minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmonkey816/pseuds/pmonkey816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-2x07, Delphine goes to Felix's loft to try to talk to Cosima after their fight in the lab over Kira's stem cells.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corruption

Delphine has decided she hates this stairwell. “Hate” is not a word she uses lightly, either. She often finds things distasteful or disappointing, perhaps even upsetting or infuriating. But hate is not a concept she lobs around for fun. Hate means something.

 

And this stairwell, it has more than earned the designation.

 

She hates the way the soles of her shoes stick to the floor as she walks, making them groan and squeak disgustingly with each step; she hates that half the steps are broken, despite the fact that they're made out of concrete; she hates the graffiti that covers the walls—the graffiti which doesn't even have the decency to look pretty. Instead, it's the drunken scribbling of teenagers with paint pens, experimenting with the illicit, writing their names to be immortalized until the building is taken down by a wrecking ball or a massive infestation of termites. Whichever gets to it first.

 

But most of all, she hates that Cosima is on the other side of this stairwell, probably smoking and laughing with Sarah and Felix, probably telling them how much she hates Delphine. And Delphine has been sitting in this shithole, chainsmoking cigarettes and trying to figure out what to say besides “I'm sorry,” because the truth is she's not. Not even the slightest bit. What kind of person would lie about being sorry about lying?

 

She pulled the final cigarette from her pack and lit it with the butt of the last one, feeling the smoke begin to burn the back of her throat.

 

_Get out._

 

When she'd  sai d it, it had frightened Delphine, and she'd scampered off. Cosima didn't yell often, barely ever raised her voice, but she'd  spoken it  with such a poisonous tinge it bounced off the walls of the ir lab— no,  _Cosima's_ lab _—_ and infused itself in every piece of equipment,  hued every memory of their working hours together.  She'd never be able to look at that damn extractor  hood the same way again,  now that it held the echo of both Cosima's cynicism and her ire.

 

S he heard the sound of scuffing boots, the same sticky suctioning she despised so much, and she rose, dropping the cigarette,  now just a butt, as Cosima and Sarah rounded the corner.  Cosima shook the rain from her dreads, Sarah leaning away to avoid the droplets and pulling down her hood in one seamless action. Cosima froze in place, and Sarah's smile faded fast as she glanced from Cosima's drawn lips to Delphine standing there, stock still.

 

“Delphine.” The word was flat on Cosima's lips. Sarah took a step toward Delphine, but Cosima grasped onto her arm to stop her.

 

“Yes. I'm here.” She knew it was a ridiculous thing to say as soon as she'd said it, but she wasn't prepared for this. She was prepared for yelling, for 'what do you want,' for 'what are you doing here,' but not for the emptiness of her own name in this ridiculous, grimy stairwell. And Delphine felt stupid. Stupid for her response, for being here. Stupid for wanting Cosima's forgiveness and her warmth, stupid for thinking she could fix things again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

“Yeah. Well, that's your job isn't it? To always be there, to watch me?” Cosima's nostrils flared. “Who sent you? Rachel or Leekie?”

 

The truth was, it was neither. Because they didn't really  _need_ Delphine to draw Cosima to Dyad anymore, didn't need her to hold her there. They didn't even need her to monitor her activity anymore, because the cameras she was sure Rachel had installed in the lab could do that job as easily as she could. No, her entire usefulness now rested on Cosima's wanting her there. But she didn't, did she?

 

“I came because I—“ She sighed, shaking her head. “Because I wanted to talk.”

 

“Well, she don't want to talk to you.” Sarah snapped, rage coiled plainly in her tensed muscles, waiting to be released so she could finally give Delphine what she deserved. Delphine wasn't opposed, necessarily; she almost wanted Sarah to hit her and make her bleed, so that Cosima would coo over her, stroke her hair, wipe the blood from her face and kiss her softly again, would love her again.

 

“I've got this, Sarah.” Cosima said, a gentleness to her tone Delphine ached for. “I'll meet you upstairs in a little bit, okay?”

 

Sarah glanced between the two of them again before nodding. “All right, but you know where to find me if you need me.”

 

Cosima nodded and Sarah walked away, intentionally shoving her shoulder hard into Delphine's and making her stumble back—almost sprawling onto the stairs before she caught herself with a backward step—just to show how much stronger, how much more aggressive  she was than Delphine.  Just because she could.

 

She turned back to face Cosima, opening her mouth then shutting it again when the words didn't come.

 

“What?” When Delphine still didn't speak, she added, “you wanted to talk, so talk.”

 

“I never meant to upset you, Cosima.” Her voice was subdued, but still so loud in the cramped, empty hall.

 

Cosima laughed, shaking her head. “Nope, try again.”

 

Delphine huffed out a breath. “Cosima, please. I don't want things to be this way, I—” she ran a hand through her hair, “I can't stand it.”

 

“There's a whole lot of what you want in those sentences, Delphine, and not a lot of reasons why I should give a shit.”

 

“You should give a shit because I care about you.” She brought her eyes up to meet Cosima's gaze again, holding it though she felt her heart withering beneath its glare.

 

“Maybe I don't care about you.” Cosima looked over at the wall where the word 'jizzturkey' was scrawled in awkward, unpracticed cursive, frowning at it.

 

“I don't believe that.” She took a step forward, then thought better of it and stopped before getting any closer. “I know this hurts you. It hurts me, too.”

 

“Poor you.” She remembered when the words had been said with a mixture of distrust and affection, remembered distinctly the way Cosima had played with her fingers, remembered the way it had sent tingles through her body, awakening the want that had been well and fully sated not fifteen minutes before. “I'm going upstairs.”

 

Delphine caught her by the bicep as she moved to pass her, and she turned her head, their eyes connecting again.

 

“Let me go, Delphine.”

 

“No. I'm sorry I hurt you, Cosima, but I will not apologize for doing the right thing.”

 

Cosima scoffed. “And that's the fucking problem. You still thinking making decisions for me is the right thing. You still treat me like a lab rat.” Her voice started to ris e , and Delphine fought the urge to let her go, to shrink back into herself and run home with her tail between her legs. “If you cared about me, you would treat me like a person and let  _me_ decide what happens with  _my_ body!” She was full-on yelling now, though they were a foot away from one another, and Delphine tightened her grip on Cosima's arm to keep from letting go.

 

“I will not watch you die!” She shouted, matching Cosima's volume. She dropped it down low, leaning in closer for emphasis. “Hate me for the rest of your life, if that's what you must do, but I would rather know you're alive and healthy without me than live the rest of my days with your corpse on my conscience and in my heart.”

 

C osima wavered back slightly, sucking in a harsh breath through her clenched teeth.  All she knew after that was that she was pressed against those stupid walls, Cosima's lips harsh and painful against her own, Cosima's hands grasping at her breasts through her button-up. She whimpered as the palm brushed a nipple, already hard and pressing against the layers of material between them, already missing Cosima's touch. She felt it begin to build again, a familiar heat that consumed her entire body in one overwhelming flash. The tightening and squeezing of organs tuned to the frequency of Cosima's skin rubbing against hers.

 

S he presses back against her, matching force with force, but d id not overtake her,  did not try to touch her, because she kn ew Cosima need ed it —this semblance of control, and she cannot take it from her again. So when fingers tug ged at the button of her jeans, she d id n't stop her, d id n't tell her 'not yet,' because she  was not ready for it, but she want ed it. More than anything before in her life, with her whole body, she crave d it.

 

Cosima move d her lips to low on Delphine's neck, biting hard into it and making her cry out and tighten her hands into Cosima's top, so hard she th ought she might tear it right off. She is not copyrighted, her genes do not mark her as property, yet Cosima's teeth can. Can tell everyone who looks at her that she is owned by another, that she does not want anyone else.  She hope d Cosima w ould leave them all over her neck, all over her chest, because her heart is no longer hers and she wants the world to know it. She wants Cosima to know it.

 

Fingers slip ped gracelessly against her clit and she presse d her hips forward, wetter than she 'd thought she was, grinding into the feeling, letting it take over every last semblance of sense and awareness she'd been holding onto. She open ed her eyes to look at Cosima, who  wa s looking right at her, lips drawn tight and eyes dull, damp, and dark. Her heart beat a chill through her body that was quickly forgotten when Cosima pushed two fingers inside of her and she tightened around them, wanting to feel their friction against every millimeter of sensitive skin. It was incredible. Breathtaking. And so, so empty of affection it spread an entirely different sort of ache in her chest.

 

“Cosima.” She managed through strained vocal chords, hand scrambling up to grasp at her hair, to bring their eyes together again. It wasn't supposed to go this way, not at all. So many scenarios in her head, so many words she'd mulled and considered, but not this. This was not even a spot on the horizon.

 

Cosima kissed her again, to keep her quiet perhaps, free hand tugging harshly on her curls, sending shots of pain that jumbled into pleasure somewhere on her spine between her head and her clit. She shifted, feeling another shock of pleasure at how her new position placed Cosima even deeper, even flusher up against her g-spot. It was the perfect place, in fact, and she rocked into the stroke of Cosima's hand, forcing it harder and harder into her with each thrust of her hips.

 

Random muscles began to twitch, and she knew it was almost over. She pulled back from Cosima's lips, placing her mouth to her cheek instead, gasping hot moist breaths onto the side of her face. “Oh. Oh, merde. Cosima.” It was a whimper, would have been a sob if she didn't have the pure will to not cry. It felt amazing, as always, because Cosima was an amazing lover, but the orgasm washed through her gently, with none of the force of the tidal wave it usually was, and she found herself back in reality quicker than ever.

  
Cosima pulled her fingers away, looking at them with a sour frown before wiping them on her own pants. She looked up at Delphine, messy and leant against the wall, breath still coming in shallow gasps, then turned and walked wordlessly up the stairs.

 

Delphine's legs began to falter and she slid down the wall, landing harshly on her tailbone. Yes, she hated this hallway and all of its grime, all of its thoughtless scrawls—mistakes of wasted youth.  Most of all, she hated that s he belonged here.


	2. Absolutely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between Cophine scenes in 2x08.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry it took so long to get this out. My laptop broke, life happened, yada yada. You know how it is. Anyway, I felt like Cosima's sudden turn-around between those two scenes made no sense, so I wanted to make it make sense in my head. I wanted Cosima to have a reason to soften up a little, to the point where she would forgive Delphine and let her guard down around her (in a multitude of ways). Anyway, hope it was worth the wait and y'all like it.

_Click. Beep._

 

The sound of the passcard startled her, and she straightened from where she’d been hunched over a piece of paper, turning her head toward the sound. The click of the card again. She looked down at her notes, suddenly incomprehensible squiggles as she felt her amygdala take over her frontal lobe. She took a shaky breath, the beep of rejection following almost too quietly to hear. Then, the unusual noise of knuckles rapping against the door. She managed to finish the thought she’d been writing before she’d been interrupted.

 

Scott looked up at her and she could feel it, the question he wasn’t asking.

 

“Cosima? Cosima!”

 

She looked over her shoulder at where he was working, tossing a “hold onto your hat” as she stood. She moved to the door, pulling it open and settling her weight onto one hip.

 

Delphine looked good today. Well, she looked good every day, but there was something about Doctor Cormier that would always manage to surprise Cosima, even after they’d settled into this routine, this life. At the Dyad, Delphine was confident; she dressed in tight jeans, button-ups or flowing tops. She pulled her hair back tight behind her head. There was none of the student she’d thought she'd met. The gangliness of her, the giddy, excited stumbling over herself were gone and now she was suave, in her element, in control.

 

Cosima liked it. She more than liked it. It turned her on, it drew her eyes, made them stick.

 

“Hey,” Delphine was confused, though they’d been through this so many times. “My passcard is not working.”

 

“Yeah.” Cosima glanced up at her briefly, the look on Delphine’s face sending shocks through her system. “I locked you out.” She didn’t wait for her reaction, didn’t feel as though she could handle it. “Is that for me?”

 

Delphine looked down at the package, having forgotten it. “Yeah. a package from Sarah.” There was half a beat where she handed it over and Cosima focused her full attention on it before she spoke again. “Seriously? I can override this lock anytime.”

 

“Go for it.” It was time for the killing blow, the sentence she’d honed to hit Delphine in the back of her knees; the one she knew would make her buckle and suffer. “I just really don’t want you here.” She pushed the door shut before any more thoughts of her could cloud the judgment of her calmer self, the one that made decisions independent of Delphine’s influence.

 

“Cosima.” Her name echoed back from the door, bounced around the hallway. She let out a small breath. It was over. Her relationship, the one she’d never expected, the one that had hit her so hard it stole her breath, even before the illness ravaged her lungs and made each one feel precious.

 

“Wow. Girl fights are mean.” For such a nerdy boy, Scott’s voice was low and so different from what she was used to in this world she now inhabited. The one full of women who scraped and battled and loved so fiercely it suffocated.

 

She started to walk toward him, toward what her life used to be. Long days in labs with socially awkward boys and the occasional woman, all of whom laughed too loud at their own puns and spent long hours playing tabletop games instead of lounging out in the sunshine with their peers. She was used to this world, used to the rules of how to talk, what jokes to make and when. She could charm this world, could control it. But Delphine. She was a whole other ballgame.

 

It gave her pause. Delphine was a whole other game, yeah, but she ruled that game, too. Even when Doctor Cormier took over, there was always the slightest hesitance when it came to Cosima. She had never been much for sleeping around. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the opportunity, she’d simply never liked it. To her, sex was intimacy. It was sharing herself with another person. It was something sacred and wonderful and otherworldly, to be able to reach euphoria in someone else’s arms.

 

And now? She held a beautiful, intelligent woman at her beck and call. She was living every person’s fantasy, even though it hurt. Even though she hated it. She turned on her heel, suddenly.

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

Delphine was disappearing into the stairway when Cosima caught sight of her, and she jogged to catch her.

 

“Delphine, wait.”

 

She paused, turning with one foot on the landing and the other on the top step.

 

“If you've come to yell at me more, Cosima, don't bother.” From so high up, with the sunlight shining bright and easy into this building with too many windows, Delphine seemed angelic and pure. It threw her off kilter.

 

“No.” She climbed the stairs until they were face to face. “I want something else.”

 

There was a slight pause where Delphine didn't speak, where she watched with a wary eye.

 

“What happened the other day, it was--”

 

Cosima pressed forward, forced her against the wall. “You liked it, didn't you?”

 

Delphine sucked in a harsh breath, shutting her eyes and turning her head away. “No.”

 

“I think you're lying.” She murmured it against her ear, pressing their hips together. “I think you want me.”

 

Delphine pushed at Cosima's shoulders. She was easily stronger, especially now that Cosima's illness had begun to eat at her musculature. They were arms' length apart now, Delphine holding her there with furrowed brows and tears lying in wait in the wells of her eyes. “Of course I want you. I can't stop wanting you.” She pushed her gently back until she was against the opposite wall and knelt down in front of her, lifting Cosima's shirt so she could press a kiss to the skin of her stomach.

 

“What are you doing?” Cosima's voice was hard, but her breath was trembling.

 

“You want control? Fine.” Delphine nudged Cosima's pants down with her chin, then ran her tongue along her hipbone. “Here I am. On my knees for you.” Cosima grasped her chin and tilted it up to look at her. “What do you want? I'll do anything.”

 

Cosima took her in: panting harshly through her nose, forcing the nostrils to flare with every breath; jaw clenched tight together; tearpaths crossing her cheekbones down to her jaw.

 

“Shit.” She turned her head to the side, looking out the large windows next to them. Control was fun, control felt _good_ , especially when you didn't often have it. But power and control are nothing unless they're being wielded over others. “I have to go.” She muttered, then stepped to the side to escape Delphine's grasp and walked back toward the stairs.

 

“Don't leave me like this again.” She sounded insolent to her own ears, like a child begging to not be left at kindergarten. “Please, Cosima.”

 

“I'm sorry. I just--” She turned with a hand on the rail to look at her. “I just need some time.”


	3. Détente

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, this is for real done now. You're right, there was no resolution to the last chapter. So I wrote a quick little follow-up that takes place after Cosima and Delphine get high together. So, spoilers, obviously.

Je t'aime. I love you, too. Such simple statements, really. Overused and entirely cliché, yet somehow still meaningful. As long as the English language has had the words, they've been meaningful. Semantics aren't Cosima's strongpoint. Words are important, but ideas far more so. Words are symbols that point to something experiential, a vehicle to explain a quickened heartbeat, a tingling in the skin, or the entirely baffling urge to put your lips on another person's. To put your tongue, your hands, your skin on or in another person's. Even the science of it—the endorphins, the neurons, the oxytocin—is just a newer, more complex way of conveying the same notion.

 

Love, though. Love has prevailed as long as language—oral or written. For hundreds of years, thousands.

 

It seems simple, but Delphine and Cosima had fought hard to get there. They'd fought the Dyad, fought the clone club, fought each other for the chance of it. For that glimmer of diamond in a mound full of coals and fossils that was monitor and subject. All because when Delphine touched her, even the slightest brush, Cosima felt the beginnings of those bodily sensations. She felt the way her autonomic functions ceased for just the smallest second; a stutter in her heartbeat, the sudden cessation of her breathing. And in her mind she heard an echo of this moment, of Je t'aime, of I love you.

 

Now, lying on this couch with Delphine's fingers stroking along her own, her eyes seemed even more complexly beautiful than ever. Cosima fell into them, doing her best to anchor herself to the reality of their situation and failing miserably. She'd been destined to fail, from the very beginning. She was destined to fall over and over again, despite all the tears, all the anger. There was still love. She'd only been able to hope the same was true for Delphine.

 

Had Sarah heard it that day on the phone? Cosima had tricked herself into believing she could overpower her body with her intellect. That as long as she _knew,_ she could stay objective. Sarah had been abused by Vic. Maybe that's how she knew it wasn't so simple. Maybe that's why she did everything she could to keep them apart. Did she know that, too, was a battle she couldn't win?

 

Delphine leans down to kiss her, mouth soft as ever yet tongue gentler and less sure than usual. The effects of the weed had cooled in Cosima, leaving her groggy and calm. It had been a sweet moment, yet still shrouded in the ever-present murkiness that had enveloped their lives since moving to Toronto. If she'd glanced away from Delphine's eyes, she would have seen the cement walls of the lab, would have been reminded of it all. Maybe things would have ended with bitterness instead of confessions of love.

 

_Things are moving too fast to be this way. I think they killed Aldous._

 

And there had been a sadness in her eyes. Cosima wasn't dense—she'd long suspected something not quite innocent between Delphine and her boss, but she'd pushed the thoughts aside as paranoia. That sadness confirmed it, sending a muddled mix of jealousy and tenderness through her  that pushed her to comfort her, to turn her attentions from that loss to what she had now .  She'd had fun getting high with Delphine, but every now and then, the thought would return:  Leekie had been her lover. She pulled away from Delphine's lips and hid her face against her stomach. A lie for every step of the way, but  Delphine was right: she  had needed to trust someone. She  had _wanted_ t hat person to be Delphine.

 

And on top of all of that, she was dying. She often forgot, despite the general feeling of  poor health and the frequent coughing fits. She'd go hours without thinking of it, until something happened that brought the nauseating sense of ill-ease hurtling back to the fore of her mind. Delphine was a good caregiver, she did things for Cosima without asking if she needed it. She did them and said it was because she wanted to, but Cosima knew it was because doing things for herself got harder and harder every day.

 

Those were the moments Cosima felt sure of Delphine's devotion. And then Delphine would do something that would call into question the foundation of that trust, would shatter the image of their life and she'd have to try to rebuild it. Over and over. Theirs was not a particularly static relationship. But something about dying will change a person. She doesn't have time anymore to question love. She doesn't have enough time to cherish what she does have, much less mourn what she's lost.

 

So she lets her back in, again and again. Because she's scared. Because she wants Delphine so badly and thinks maybe—if she has another chance—maybe Delphine will do right by her. Maybe she'll love her the way Cosima wants her to.

 

“Come home with me.” Delphine says quietly, stroking her hand along Cosima's cheek. “It's late.”

 

Cosima nods, face still buried into Delphine's stomach. She can smell her—a slight perfume, the scent of her sweat, the faint scent of sex. She doesn't want to move from here, wants to stay burrowed against her skin, as tightly as she can. She wants to be under Delphine's skin forever, whether she dies or not.

 

She forces herself up to her feet, and Delphine follows, grasping her hand and walking them to the door. When they get there, Cosima pauses. Delphine turns, raising her eyebrows in a silent question.

 

“Kiss me?” Cosima asks, tapping a finger to her lips. Delphine does, softly at first but harder at Cosima's frantic urging.

 

When they pull back, Delphine takes a second to open her eyes, a stupid grin on her face. When she does, her eyes sparkle with little starbursts of gold in her brown irises. Cosima squeezes her hand and they walk wordlessly out the door.


End file.
